From Dusk til Dawn
by ajrs
Summary: AU, struggling PI Caroline Forbes takes a job with Salvatore Investigations, thrusting her into a world full of idiot cops, charming criminals where lines are blurred. Armed with only her fast wit and a handful of zip ties, she's determined to prove that blonde hair and a disarming smile is an asset in a man's world. Just as long as she doesn't get shot first...


**AN**: Ok, so this is my first TVD story, so please excuse if this is a little ooc. Also, I'm pretty free with my shipping on this show so please don't be put off if you don't like a certain ship. Chances are they'll all keep mixing up!

**Summary: **AU, struggling PI Caroline Forbes takes a job with Salvatore Investigations, thrusting her into a world full of idiot cops, charming criminals where lines are blurred. Armed with only her fast wit and a handful of zip ties, she's determined to prove that blonde hair and a disarming smile is an asset in a man's world. Just as long as she doesn't get shot first...

(song lyric is money on my mind by sam smith)

**Please read, review and enjoy!**

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**1. Money On My Mind**

_**When the sun will set**_  
_**Don't you fret**_  
_**No I have no money on my mind**_

"Well, shit."

First thing this morning Caroline realised she was out of coffee, and the bodega at the corner of her street was all out - apart from decaf. And let's face it, that sludge was pointless, like non-alcoholic beer. Offensive to the religion she called her caffeine addiction. Then the hot water ran out midway through her shower since Elena had spent far too long conditioning her ridiculously perfect, glossy hair.

And those had been the highlights of her day.

Currently, she was stood over the unconcious, slightly injured 'skip', whom she'd just smacked over the head with a surprisingly heavy lamp base. In her defense, he had smacked her in the jaw, which would no doubt leave yet another alarming, unexplainable bruise that had old women giving her advice about women's shelters at coffee houses. Again. The skip - or bail jumper - was Mac Grant. Assault, breaking and entering, general scumbag-ery. And worth a good $2000 to her if she could get him to his bondsman in time. And she could really, _really _do with the cash.

The shitty apartment on the fourth floor of a Brooklyn walk up with a high crime rate and serious mildew problem was not what she envisioned when she moved to New York with her friends from Mystic Falls. Despite the whimsical name, there was nothing remotely loveable about her home town. 'Founding Families' routed in their ancestors' importance, filled with ideas of grandeur and imposing the most ridiculous rules and standards onto the town's children. Irritating, for a girl with her _own _high standards and... _independance _as her mother called it, stubborness as some others preferred. Caroline and her friends from high school made a pact, first chance they got, they chose a big city with high rises, opportunity and anonymity.

New York had been chosen by majority vote. Bonnie had wanted New Orleans for the history and 'magic' as she described it, but one stern look and complaint about the humidity and her hair from Caroline had put a swift end to that. But despite the affluency of their parents, it did nothing to compare to a city full of bankers, movie starts and general rich folk.

But the two apartments between the five of them - six if you included Elena's younger brother in the original fray - were liveable, if not ideal. Rooms hardly big enough to fit a bed and dresser, and you could damn well forget about a wardrobe. A tv of highly questionable origin. Stagnant air that Bonnie had declared war on, armed with an array of scented candles and incense. Frankly, between that and the hairspray flying round the place the entire sorry apartment was a fire hazard. But, despite the vile mustard yellow - now stained with various shades of brown and grey - paint job, collapsable furniture and whatnot, it was theirs. In the big apple.

They'd each picked their relevent vcareer paths after graduation from NYU and Chelsea University respectively. Bonnie had set up as an alternative therapist, clearly putting her degree to good use. But it was working, with her witchy voodoo drawing in curious office women. Elena had stayed within the education system, working in post-grad research with her history lecturer Professor Saltzmann. It had been a good reunion with her aunt's former boyfriend, whom she'd always got on well with. Alaric was always the lecturer that let them off being useless when she and Caroline showed up hopelessly hungover and only punished them with assignments once they'd recovered. Since the age gap wasn't significant, he was often invited round for beer and potluck chilli.

Tyler, Caroline's ex-boyfriend, heir to the Lockwood dynasty and all round charmer was heading up his family's advertising company. It was 'one of the smaller ones, to get started out on'.

If he wasn't so damn charming and kind-hearted, the group would hate him. Lucky bastard.

Jeremy was floating around the waiting business following his graduation. He was having a slight crisis of cause and had no clue what he was going to do with his life. They'd all been there.

Matt had followed his inherently good heart and lack of concern for personal safety and joined the FDNY. The women were falling at his feet and he was excelling, already having been drafted to one of the more elite 'squads', specialing in more difficult rescue and extractions. The girls had a pool on how long it would take before he became Lieutenant.

And Caroline. Well, pre-law had never really made it to full-law, because for all her blonde charm, intelligence and sheer stubborn determination - all qualities which everyone had thought would make her the world's most perfect DA, despite her fondness for tequila - something in her had snapped. She needed action, activity. Not years stuck in school reading old cases and practising moots. So she'd graduated, gotten her PI lisence and freelanced.

Lou, the owner of a fairly successful bail bonds company had taken a shine to her after she broke his headlights with her baseball bat when he pissed her off in a bar. She had somewhat of an impulse control problem it would seem. He had a few reliable bounty hunters working for him, but they were big, tough, rough-looking guys with tattoos, muscles and anger issues. He figured a cute, snarky blonde would be a useful asset for the skips with a weakness for a pretty face. So he threw her a job every now again when she needed the work.

Which was how she'd ended up in this snafu.

She sighed, cocking her head to the side as she studied the unconcious lump in front of her. Grant had around a foot and 100 pounds on her, and he was snoring like a drunken sailor. (She knew the sound from experience). First thing was first, locking his wrists with the cable ties she kept handy. Cheaper than handcuffs at present, and those things cut like a bitch if you struggled too hard. Nothing worse than an angry felon with free flying fists.

Now for the hard part. Getting him the 12 blocks to Lou's office. Her car was out front, but she didn't really fancy dragging him out. She'd ended up with a bad back for weeks the last time she did that. It was always easier when they hid out in hotels - a laundry bin and the rest was a cakewalk. God, she needed to move back to Mystic Falls where the only PI work was lost puppies and neighbor disputes over tree heights.

Caroline opened Grant's front door, a last attempt before she had to call Matt again. It was getting embarassing, the amount she had to call him to help her with an unconcious skip. Mind you, if they stopped pissing her off or trying to hit her she'd stop hitting them over the head with stuff.

Her luck might have turned. A guy was walking past, and he looked tall and in decent shape. Probably capable of helping her maneuver Grant into the elevator and then her car. Possibly. "Um, excuse me?"

He whirled to face her, dark eyes meeting hers. God, he was pretty. Quaffed hair, but in the sexy, I woke up like this kind of way. Brooding eyes, cheekbones of an Ambercrombie model.

_I wonder if his abs match, _she mused briefly. _Focus, Caroline!_

God, this was distracting.

"Yeah?"

"Um, my friend here seems to have had a little accident, would there be anyway you could help me getting him to my car downstairs?" she asked sweetly, using her Miss-Mystic-Falls megawatt smile.

The guy looked over her shoulder, eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. "You're friend trip and fall into a head injury and a pair of cable ties?"

"Something like that."

He looked unsurprisingly suspicious. "Look, lady-"

_Lady. _Caroline wrinkled her nose. It was what Matt called her when she used her lawyer skills on him and tricked him into doing the dishes.

"-I don't know what you've done-"

"Hey, it's what _he's _done you should be more concerned about!" she protested, straightening up, hands on hips. The effect was lost in the summer dress she'd stupidly donned this morning. Never go after skips in a dress, it never ended well. "I'm a bounty hunter, if you must know." Half true. An out-of-work PI moonlighting as a bounty hunter to be more precise.

"A bounty hunter?" the ass actually _laughed_. As if it was so funny that pint sized Caroline was a big bad bounty hunter. ""You?"

She arched a perfectly plucked brow. "Laugh all you like, I think you'll find he's the one on the ground unconcious thank you very much."

He nodded, obviously fighting the urge to laugh again. "Okay miss, I can see that."

"Fine. Twenty bucks to get him in my car. Sound good?"

"Fifty."

_Shit. _She did not have fifty bucks to spare. But the two thousand pay out would be difficult to manage otherwise. "Seriously? Fine."

The guy smiled, moving past her towards the snoring lump. "Alright-y. You think you can grab an arm?"

She rolled her eyes, crouching at the opposite side. Huffing a few strands of hair out of her face, she cursed the humid New York summer. It was hot as hell and nowhere she frequented believed in the concept of air conditioning. Though she was slightfully grateful that her handsome help had worn a thin tshirt given the weather, noticeable biceps catching her eye as he pulled at Grant's arm. "Puh-lease. I usually do this without the help."

He glanced pointedly at the impressive welt on Grant's head. "Oh yeah, you do this normally?"

Caroline shrugged. "Depends on how patient I'm feeling. Today my BS meter was off the charts."

He chuckled as the lifted the dead weight. "I'll bear that in mind."

She didn't reply as she gritted her teeth, hauling Grant into an unright position and wedgning his shoulder against hers to distribute the weight. "Forget the door lock. This ass did enough B and E's that I'm not so concerned if he gets robbed."

"I'm glad you're not on my neighborhood watch."

"Hey, you're the one living in a building with a known felon with a rapsheet the length of my arm."

He glanced at her. "So are half my neighbors."

It was a valid point. The only reason Caroline was confident her car would still be outside because the crap, old model ford was more rusted and liable to fall apart than your average chop shop car. Theives had far more self respect than to go near her car.

It took them a good ten minutes to get Grant to the car. "Backseat?" the stranger suggested.

Caroline shot him a look. The idiot had suckerpunched her, given her _another _bruise, and cost her fifty bucks. She was definitely blaming him for his being knocked out. "Hell no. Boot."

He laughed, nodding. "Alright. I see your point."

Another couple of minutes of huffing and struggling to get Grant into the car managed to wake him up. _Finally. _"What the f-"

_Ok, snores _and _swears like a drunken sailor. _Caroline noted with a grimace.

"Watch your mouth." Nice-hair guy warned, voice like steel.

"You bitch! I'm gonna come after ya mom, ya boyfriend, ya friends, and _then_-"

"Yeah yeah yeah." Caroline rolled her eyes. "You're gonna come aftr everyone I love, then you're gonna come for me. But you're gonna take your _time _with me, you're gonna _enjoy _it, and damn _I'm _gonna enjoy it till you kill me. But here's how this will work. I'll take you back to jail, get my money, and never see you again. Unless of course you skip bail, again. In which case I will catch you, again. And probably hit you, again. And you'll have to explain how you got beaten by a girl, again. Look, this isn't my first rodeo and I've heard this speil before, okay? So let's save both of us the time and quit now. After all, you must have _quite _the headache. " she finished sweetly before slamming the trunk shut.

Nice-hair smiled at her, clearly amused by her metaphorical balls. It surprised most people, sweet girly Caroline with her cheerleader positivity cutting a man down with razor sharp wit and sometimes brute force. But she liked people underestimating her. It made it way easier to catch them off guard. "Well. That was an unexpected route for my afternoon to take."

"I like to enforce the variety of life." she replied, happy now Grant was locked safely in her trunk. Smarter men had tried to escape. None had succeeded. "So. Fifty bucks. You're robbing me blind."

"Did you see the size of him?" again with the eyebrow raise. "Besides, how much are you making from this little job, a thousand?"

Caroline smiled coyly, pulling out her purse. "Did noone tell you it was rude to ask a lady how much she earns?"

Chuckling slightly, he covered her purse. "Don't worry. You've put a smile on my face for the first time in about a month, you can keep your money."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." Ok, now he was mocking her. "I'll just take a hundred next time you get in a jam."

"Hey! I hardly ever get in jams thank you."

"Start picking on people your own size and hardly ever might be never."

"Oh thanks, Oprah."

He turned to leave with a slight smile and a cursory wave. "I'll see you around."

"No! You won't!" she called after his retreating figure. _Damn. I hate to see you leave but I love to see you go, _she thought sadly as she studied just how fine his ass looked in those jeans. Sure, she was sleeping with Tyler between his bimbos, but sex with the ex hardly stopped her from window shopping. Things with Tyler were casual, a means to an end, comfy and familiar. Like comfort eating ben and jerry's; you know it's not the healthiest option but when times are hard you just want what makes you feel good. Plus, it actually _was _usually followed by ben and jerry's. The boys had learnt to keep a pint of chunky monkey in their freezer for when Caroline showed up either horny or in floods of tears after a terrible break-up.

A series of loud thumps and a string of expletives sounded from the trunk.

As she returned to the driver's side, she hammered on the lid. "Will you shut _up!_"

She really needed a new job.


End file.
